


It's Not Fair

by chelseawinchester



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Other, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9803459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseawinchester/pseuds/chelseawinchester





	

“Jay, I really need you here.” You sobbed into the phone, needing your best friend with you. Sitting in the hospital with a loved one was torture, especially when that loved one was dying. Well, he could stay alive on dialysis and the ventilator and his medicines, but your dad wasn’t your dad. There were toxins that just couldn’t be filtered, and they were damaging his brain. He probably wouldn’t ever be himself again, even if the rest of his body healed.

“I’ll be there in ten, Y/N. Do you need me to stay on the phone with you?”

You nodded before realizing Jensen couldn’t see you. “Yeah. Ple-please. I just-I-I need to-be able-to…” After each word came a sob, followed by the next, and so on.

“Shh, it’s okay, just breathe, I’m on my way.”

_The road through New Mexico was long. Beautiful, but long. There wasn’t much to do but listen to the music playing in the speakers. You sat in the back with your sister, fighting her for extra space, when Moonlight Feels Right by Starbuck came on. You didn’t think much of it until the middle of the song, when your dad started drumming on the steering wheel--to a xylophone solo. Your mom was the first to look over at him, bursting into laughter at the sight. That’s when you and your sister noticed, and you all laughed about the rockin’ xylophone solo._

That song would never be the same. It would be accompanied by tears and a small smile as you remembered the silliness. Hell, all music that you listened to wouldn’t be the same, whether your dad had ever listened to it or not. You would know exactly what he’d say about it.

“Y/N, you still there?”

Clearing your throat, you said, “Yeah. I’m here. Just… thinking.”

“I know, Y/N. I know.”

_Chelsea vs. Arsenal. The London Derby. This game was your Super Bowl. Winner gets bragging rights (and three points). So naturally, you had to mess with your mom when she went outside to smoke._

_Your dad turned to you and mouthed, “On three.” Knowing exactly what he meant, you grinned and nodded. “One, two, three.”_

_“YES!”_

_The door opened and your mom stuck her head inside the frame. “Chelsea scored?!”_

_With a completely straight face, your dad looked at her. “No.”_

_“Jackasses.” Laughter burst out of you and your dad as your mom went back outside, flipping you off after the door shut, which only caused the laughter to grow._

Jensen walked into the room, where you sat with your sister and mom. He pulled you into a crushing hug, knowing you needed the comfort of his arms.

“How is everything?”

Your mom's answer came slowly. “It's not good. He’s, uh… he's not gonna make it. We have to take him off everything. He wouldn't… he wouldn't want to live like this. He's not going to be _him_.”

Jay nodded, still holding you against his chest. Your sister Jess was sitting on a chair with her head in her hands. The only indication that she was crying was the movement of her shoulders. She was taking this incredibly hard--you all were--and she could barely stop the tears from flowing. 

You mostly started crying when you thought of all the memories you shared with your dad. When he used to go to the doctor with you, or when you went on road trips, or even when he just sat on the couch being the biggest dork possible. Your dad’s only mission in life was to make his family laugh--and he was definitely able to do that.

 _“They can’t fool me. That_ is _a trash can.”_

_Your dad was insisting that the biohazard can was a trash can. It had a piece of paper on it saying, “This is not a trash can.” He always had to be the biggest dork at the doctor simply to make you laugh, and this was one of those ways. Your mom was just sitting in the corner trying to hide her laughter, not wanting to enable his idiocy._

_“It’s a biohazard can,” you said, “it’s not meant for trash.”_

_“But it’s still a trash can.”_

_“No, it’s not.”_

_“Clearly, it is a trash can. Trash goes in there, right?”_

_“Biohazard--” Trash. Biohazard trash. Mostly, you had been arguing with him because it was funny. It was a trash can being used as a biohazard can._

_The doctor entered the room, sitting down at the tiny desk next to you. She asked routine questions, typing them into the computer as she went. At some point, she asked about school._

_“I go to TWU. I absolutely love it, it’s beautiful.”_

_“Yes, very clean campus. Lots of trash cans.” Leave it to your dad to say that. You and your mom stifled laughter as the doctor gave your dad a look that said, “Ok, weirdo.”_

 _When you left the office, you started laughing at your dad. “Really?” Your voice was screechy as you asked your dad if he had really just done that, finding it slightly embarrassing but absolutely hilarious._

“Mom, do you remember the rolling chairs?” you asked.

“Oh my god! Those damn things…”

Jensen looked at you inquisitively. “Rolling chairs?”

“I was at the eye doctor when I was thirteen or so. There weren’t enough chairs for all of us to sit in, so my dad decided the rolling chair was the best place to sit. But he didn’t just sit. He rolled around the _entire_ room, and almost out into the hallway. For some reason I was terrified of the doctor walking in and seeing my dad acting like a five-year-old, so I kept begging him to stop.”

“Which only made him do it more,” your mom added.

“Right. So ever since then, when he went somewhere with rolling chairs, he had to sit there or at least point the damn things out and roll around. It doesn’t sound that funny, but if you were there… And you know my dad. The biggest dork on the face of the planet.”

The laughter died down as you realized that he would never roll around in a doctor’s office again. He wouldn’t point out those goddamn trash cans, and you wouldn’t watch another Chelsea match with him.

“Can I have a moment?” You got out of your chair and walked to the side of his bed as you asked.

“Of course,” Jensen answered, and everyone in the room left so you could have a moment with your dad.

“Hey, Dad. I know you don’t really know what I’m saying, but I think you can still hear me. I just…I need you to know that I love you. I wish you could be here to see me finish my first year of college. I wish you could be here to see me get my undergrad. I wish you could be here to see me--” You tried to push away the lump in your throat. “--graduate from medical school. I wish you could be here to see me finish my residency. I wish you could be here when, uh, when Jess graduates from high school.” The tears fell freely now, and you didn’t try to hold back the sobs. “I wish you could see Chelsea kick Hull’s asses on Sunday. I wish you could see Chelsea win the Premier League. I wish we could all go on another road trip together. I wish you could have seen a whale.” You were barely able to choke out your last wish. “I wish you could still be here.”

You sat on a chair and tried to breathe, but the sobs racked your body so hard. The room began to spin as you took shaky breaths, not wanting to hyperventilate. _This isn’t real, right? It’s not happening. He’s not…_

He wasn’t even himself. The toxins were in his brain, causing irreversible damage. Even if he could wake up, he would never have the same quick wit he always did. He wouldn’t make you laugh again.  
\-------------  
That night, just after you, Jensen, and Jess went home, your mom called, saying that the ventilation tube had a leak in it and your dad’s blood pressure had dropped to 66/33. You went up there as quickly as you could, getting to the hospital 30 minutes before he flatlined. 

Walking into his room, his eyes were still slightly open, as was his mouth. Looking at him made you sick. There’s a difference between being really still when asleep, and not moving at all.

You practically ran out of the room and sat in the waiting room, crying in Jensen’s arms. All you could feel was emptiness, and a sense of...not quite relief, but that was the best word for it. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t in pain. And his death wasn’t the result of your mom’s decision to pull the plug. You didn’t have to get up in the morning to go see your dad die. It was just nature’s course. Of course, you wanted to punch nature in the face, but death is a part of life, whether you liked it or not, and you understood that. But for now, you were going to be in pain that you had never felt before. 

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair, but you had to deal with it.


End file.
